


Are We Having Fun Yet?

by jakia



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. It’s the year 1967. The Vietnam War is at its peak, as is the so-called “hippie movement”.  When his stepbrother drags him to a party that Kurt doesn’t really want to attend, Kurt thinks that he’ll just drink quietly away from everyone else and hope the stench of unwashed hippie comes out of his clothes.  Instead, he meets Blaine Anderson, who plans on rocking Kurt’s world through the seductive power of drugs, sex, rock and roll, and maybe even love. [Klaine, minor Finchel, Samcedes, and Brittana, and an awesome platonic Blaine/Rachel somewhat Anderberry siblings friendship]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are We Having Fun Yet?

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: drugs, sex, and rock and roll, specifically marijuana, alcohol, blowjobs, handjobs, and the Beatles. Also, the Vietnam War probably deserves mentioning a time or two. More of the drug warning probably belongs in part two, but it gets mentioned a time or two here so I figured I'd mention it here as well.
> 
> Disclaimer: I am so whitebread it hurts. I very rarely drink, and I’ve never done pot or any sort of drugs ever in my life. However, I felt I couldn’t really write a 1960s Hippie!AU without including it in some form, so if anything is super unrealistic, blame google.
> 
> Little * can be hovered over for additional background information.

\--  
  
  
 **Music: With a Little Help From My Friends**  
Ohio, June 28th, 1967

 

* * *

 

  
As expected, the party was  _not_ Kurt’s scene.  Not at all.  There was far too much tie-dye, and the smell of--whatever that was--radiated through the air.  The only other person who looked even remotely sensible was a young man in a cardigan standing awkwardly in the corner, but he looked like he might be a Jap, so Kurt didn’t go over and talk to him.  In fact, Kurt did his best not to talk to anyone; instead, he just sat on the staircase with a lukewarm beer in his hand, hoping to make it through the night without wanting to hurt anyone.  
  
Finn, of course, had managed to disappear the second they arrived at the Berry household, abandoning Kurt as fast he could.  
  
Of course he had.  
  
“What’s the problem, ding-a-ling?"* A boy no older than Kurt, with a wild mess of curls and a bright-eyed smile, asked him, plopping down next to him on the staircase.  “You’re not having fun at my party?”  
  
Kurt blinked at him.  “ _Your_  party? I thought this was Rachel Berry’s party?”  
  
The boy shrugged.  “Her house, my idea, our party.” Kurt noticed that he was wearing flowers in his hair, woven in like they belong in the mess of curls, but other than that, he seemed rather normal, and quite fashionable at that.  Bell bottoms, a black polo, and even a little bowtie, and while it wasn’t what Kurt would wear, he had to admit it looked rather nice on him.  “But you didn’t answer my question: are you not having fun?”  
  
Kurt shook his head.  “Not really my scene, sorry.”

“Well, that just won’t do.”  The boy frowned at him, before holding out his hand for Kurt to shake.  “My name is Blaine.”  
  
“...Kurt.”

“Come on then, Kurt,” Blaine took his hand, pulling him up off the staircase.  “Let me introduce you to everyone.  Well, everyone  _I_  know.  I don’t know everyone, though.” He winked at Kurt in a way that almost made Kurt feel like he was  _flirting_  with him, but he couldn’t--he didn’t--that wasn’t--  
  
“You really don’t have to do that.”  
  
Blaine scoffed at him, but didn’t let go of his hand.  “Drinking alone is boring and depressing.  You should drink with friends instead!”  
  
“But I don’t  _know_ \--”  
  
“That’s what we’re fixing, right?” Blaine winked at him, dragging him into the living room.  There were...a lot of people there, and a lot of them were smoking things, laughing and giggling and kissing one another.  
  
Blaine didn’t seem to notice.  Instead, he started pointing out various people, while listing off their names to Kurt.  “That fellow in the cardigan is Mike Chang.  He’s a real sweet guy, really shy.  I think Tina invited him.  He’s not a Jap, though--I think he’s Chinese or something.  Anyway, he’s nice and kind of square* like you, so you’d probably like him.”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Am I wrong?” Blaine teased, poking Kurt in the belly.  Kurt frowned, but didn’t bother correcting him.  “And the girl on the couch over there sucking face with the giant is Rachel Berry, our grand hostess of the evening.  I don’t know the guy she’s kissing, though.”  
  
Kurt tilted his head slightly to the side.  “Oh.  That’s my stepbrother.”  
  
“You’ve got a stepbrother here?”  
  
“Yeah,” Kurt nodded.  “He’s the one who dragged me to this party in the first place.”  
  
“Really?” Blaine asked, batting his eyelashes in a way that made Kurt’s stomach drop.  “I’ll have to thank him, then.” He looked back over at the liplocked couple, who seemed to have forgotten they were in public.  “Uh, later then, I suppose.”  
  
Kurt smiled.  “Probably a good idea.  They seem...busy.”  
  
“Yeah.” Blaine shook his head.  “Anyway, the blonde girl on the other couch is Brittany, and the spicy Latina beauty in her lap is Santana.  And the guy watching them with the bong is Noah Puckerman.”  
  
“I know them!” Kurt laughed, a little giddy. “We went to high school together!  I didn’t realize that was them at first.”  
  
“Friends of yours?”

“Nah,” Kurt admitted softly.  “Well, sort of.  Britt’s a friend, I guess, but I haven’t really talked to her much since we broke up.”  
  
Now it was Blaine’s turn to look a little shocked.  “You used to go steady with her?”*  
  
Kurt shrugged.  “I dunno if you’d call it steady.  We kissed a couple of times in my car and held hands at school once, but we never went on a date or anything.”  
  
Blaine smiled at him, softly, like he understood.  “Not your type?”  
  
“No, I--I guess not.”  
  
It was quiet between them for a minute, when Kurt realized how  _close_  Blaine was to him.  He smelled  _good_ , like spice and incense and something distinctively  _male_ , and it made Kurt’s skin tingle.  
  
He stepped away from Blaine before he did something stupid, like kiss him or try to smell his hair again.  He’d only had half a beer, but something about Blaine and the warmth of his smile made him feel intoxicated and stupid, like he could do anything and Blaine would still think he was charming.  “So!  Anyone else I should know?”  
  
Blaine smiled at him, like Kurt hadn’t just been sniffing him like a weirdo, and pointed to a girl across the room.  “The girl over there with the headband, that’s Sugar Motta.”  
  
Kurt blinked.  “Wait, Sugar  _Motta_?  Of  _the_ Motta family?”  
  
Blaine grinned.  “Yep!  She actually bought all the alcohol and stuff for the party tonight.” He frowned, suddenly.  “I should probably say thank you.  SUGAR!” He yelled over the music and the crowd of people, hoping to get the girl’s attention.    
  
It worked.  The girl--small and sweet, and also wearing flowers in her hair like Blaine was--bounced up over to them, with a large smile on her face.  “What’s shaking, babycakes?”  
  
“Nothing, I just wanted to say thank you for buying all the stuff for tonight before I forgot.”  
  
“Aw, it’s no big thing, baby.  Daddy never minds me spending money on friends.  Speaking of friends,” She smiled kindly at Kurt.  “Who’re you?”  
  
“Sugar, this is Kurt.  Kurt, Miss Sugar Motta.”

“A pleasure.” He smiled, shaking her hand politely.    
  
“Likewise,” She grinned, before bouncing back towards Blaine.  “Anyway, you need anything else? Because there was this cute Irish boy back there and I don’t wanna lose him.”  
  
“Nah, that was it.” Blaine shrugged.  “Go have fun with your Irish boy.”  
  
“Give me some sugar for luck?”*  
  
“Always.” He laughed, kissing her mouth gently; Kurt felt slightly uncomfortable, watching them kiss.    
  
Blaine broke off the kiss, and patted Sugar away, back to where she came from.  He grinned at Kurt as soon as Sugar was far enough away.  “She’s a sweetheart, ain’t she?”  
  
Kurt frowned at him.  “She your girl?”

“What?” Blaine laughed, like he couldn’t believe Kurt would think that.  “Nooo!  No, I don’t have a girl.  I ain’t--I ain’t going steady with anybody.”  
  
“But you kissed her!”  
  
“I kiss a lot of people,” Blaine purred, and Kurt felt the heat rush to his cheeks.  “I’d kiss you, too, if you wanted to.”  
  
Kurt nearly fell over.  “I--I don’t--I mean, I--”  
  
And then Blaine was  _kissing him_ , fully, in a way Kurt had never really been kissed before, with his mouth full of Blaine’s lips and tongue.  He tasted a little of alcohol, but not overwhelmingly so—it only served to make his mouth taste a little sweeter.  It was addicting, being kissed like this, in a way that kissing Brittany had never been.  
  
It also ended far too soon.  
  
Blaine pulled away from him slowly, his face flushed and his eyes bright with mischief and lust.  “You--you wanna go upstairs with me?” He asked shyly, holding Kurt’s hand tightly.  “To my room, where we can talk and kiss some more, if--if you want?”  
  
“I’d love to.” Kurt said, before he could stop himself, before he could remind himself of what a terrible, terrible idea it was, to be alone with someone like Blaine.

* * *

  
  
**INTERLUDE: FINN**

Just as he managed to get his hand underneath Rachel’s shirt, she stopped kissing him.  
  
He sat up, slowly, and blinked back into awareness.  “What’s wrong?”  
  
“ _Blaine_ _!”_   She whispered, and if she hadn’t sounded so scandalized he would have felt the need to go punch somebody, to defend Rachel’s honor or something like that.  
  
Instead, he frowned. “My name’s  _Finn._ ”  
  
“I know that!” She hit him playfully.  “But look at  _Blaine_ _!”_  
  
She pointed across the room, to the doorway where two people were kissing, and kissing quite heavily.  Normally, Finn would have never noticed, but, well, it was quite strange, seeing two men kiss like that.  One man was sort of short, with a head full of dark, messy curls, and the other was paler, with meticulously kept brown hair that seemed awfully familiar to Finn.

Finn might’ve been a little high.

“Hey!” Finn noticed as he watched the two of them.  “That’s my stepbrother!”  
  
Rachel eyed him, curiously.  “Blaine’s your stepbrother?”  
  
“No, the other guy is.  That’s Kurt!” He smiled, playfully, watching as Kurt basically tried to maul the other guy’s face with his tongue.    
  
Beside him, Rachel clapped happily.  
  
“Man, no wonder he never has a girlfriend.” Finn laughed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he had just never noticed before.  “Good for him.”  
  
Rachel stared at him in disbelief.    
  
“What?” He asked, slightly panicked.  “Is there something on my face?”  
  
She didn’t say anything; instead, she jumped on top of him, and resumed kissing him.

 

* * *

  
  
**MUSIC: I want to hold your hand**

Blaine’s room in the Berry household was small and sparsely decorated, like it hadn’t been lived in for very long.  There were long strings of colorful beads instead of a doorway, and a lava lamp plugged in on the desk, a small pile of books, a sack of clothes, and a record player beside a rather impressive collection of records, but other than that it was simple, like the room could have belonged to anyone, not just Blaine.  
  
“You live with the Berrys?” Kurt asked softly, when he first entered the room.  Blaine shrugged at him.  
  
“Better than living at home.”

“And your parents?”

“Would prefer it if I kept my immoral, bohemian lifestyle out of their home, thank you.”  Blaine shrugged again before plopping down on his bed.  
  
Kurt frowned at him.  “They kicked you out?”  
  
He shook his head.  “No, that would require them actually  _doing_  something.  No, they just always let me know how much of a disappointment I am to them, so I try not to be there whenever I can.  And Mr. Berry and Mr. Hinson told me I could stay here with them if I wanted to, so I’ve been slowly moving all my stuff over here instead.”  
  
The name was unfamiliar to Kurt.  “Who’s Mr. Hinson?”  
  
“Leroy Hinson, he’s Mr. Berry’s---friend.  He moved in with them after Rachel’s momma left, to help Mr. Berry take care of Rachel.  He’s really nice, you’d like him.”  Blaine laid down on the bed, staring up at the soft glow of the lava lamp reflected on the ceiling.  “Doesn’t matter, anyway.  I’m moving to New York in a couple of months so I really won’t ever have to deal with my parents, so it’s a win-win.”  
  
“You’re moving to New York?” Kurt asked happily. New York had been his dream destination for a long time, and the thought of someone like  _Blaine_ being there as well was delightful and exciting. “For school?”

“Nah, I didn’t get into any school.” Blaine shrugged, sitting up gently.  “I wanted to—me and Rachel both auditioned for NYADA--”  
  
“--The New York Academy of Dramatic Arts?” Kurt breathed out, heavily.  “I auditioned with them, too!”  
  
Blaine sat up suddenly, staring at him, brightly.  “Did you get in?”  
  
Kurt shook his head sadly.  “No, I didn’t.”  
  
“I didn’t either.  Rachel did, though, and Mr. Berry asked if I’d go with her, so she wouldn’t be by herself in the big city.  He doesn’t think its safe, a young girl like her living alone in New York.” Blaine flopped back down.  “He offered to pay the rent, though, so I’m going to live with Rachel and work, try to audition for shows and stuff when I can.”  
  
Kurt tried to hide his jealousy.  “That sounds nice.”  
  
“Yeah.” Blaine nodded, sitting up again.  “Rachel’s never had any friends, so I think Mr. Berry is just grateful I’m her friend, now.”  
  
“She your girl?” Kurt teased, lightly, not really expecting an answer.  
  
Blaine laughed.  “She was, actually, for about a day and a half before I realized I  _really_  didn’t like gir—her that way.  We stayed friends, though.” Blaine shrugged, before digging around in his record pile.  “You like the Beatles?”  
  
“I  _love_ the Beatles.  Who  _doesn’t_  like the Beatles?”  
  
Blaine’s smile was infectious, temptuous, and all-together dangerous.  “Exactly!  Mind if I put it on?”  
  
“Of course not.  Go ahead.”  
  
Blaine stood up off the bed with the record in hand.  He placed it down gently on the record player, fiddling with the needle while Kurt tried his best not to stare at his ass. “You can sit down on the bed, you know.  I don’t bite.”  
  
 _No,_  Kurt thought nervously.   _But you might kiss me, and that’s just as dangerous._ “Okay.” He said, sitting down carefully on Blaine’s bed, like he was afraid he might rumple the sheets.  
  
Rather than sitting down on the bed with him, Blaine started digging around through one of his drawers.  “Do you want a joint?”  
  
Kurt frowned at him.  “No, I--no, thank you.  I don’t--I don’t do that.”  
  
Blaine grinned at him, flirtingly.  “You’re such a square.”  
  
“I’m not!”  
  
“You are!” Blaine laughed, delighted.  “You barely drink, you don’t smoke, and you don’t like parties.”  He leaned in closely, so that his forehead was brushing against Kurt’s own.  “Did I scare you, kissing you like that?”  
  
“No!” Kurt argued weakly, his nose barely touching Blaine’s.  “I just--I’d never been kissed like that, before.”  
  
“But you liked it?” Kurt nodded.  “Wanna do it again?”  
  
Kurt’s face flushed.  “I probably shouldn’t.  It--it wouldn’t be right, kissing you like that again.”  
  
“But you’re going to anyway, aren’t you?” He asked, full of a confidence Kurt didn’t have.  He kissed his cheek, pushing Kurt down against the bed, with his arms on either side of Kurt’s head.  “Because I’m just so handsome,” he breathed, kissing Kurt’s forehead, “And charming,” he kissed his nose “and when else are you going to get the chance to kiss a guy like me again in your life?”  
  
Kurt pulled him down by his hair, and kissed him.

 

* * *

 

  
His lips were swollen, and his shirt was unbuttoned and half off as Blaine pressed kisses into the freckles on his shoulder.  Not that Blaine was much better off--his bowtie had long since disappeared, and there was a terrifying bruise sucked into his neck, that made Kurt blush to remember that he had been the one to put it there.  
  
“You’re beautiful.” Blaine whispered against his collarbone, sliding the rest of Kurt’s shirt off of him.  “Someone should write a song about you.”  
  
Kurt placed his hand on Blaine’s jaw, pulling his mouth to his lips for another kiss.  “Maybe you should,” Kurt breathed as they pulled apart, peppering kisses across Blaine’s chin and jawline.  “When you’re in New York.  You should write a song about how,” he gasped as Blaine squeezed his thigh.  “how handsome you think I am.”  
  
“Handsome doesn’t do you justice,” Blaine confessed, his fingers trailing light up Kurt’s body before resting on his ass, giving it a light squeeze.  “God, I want you so bad.”

Kurt froze, and the blood in his body didn’t know whether to rush to his face or his groin.  He had to stop this, before this got out of hand, and so he kissed him for a final time before he softly pushed him away. “We should stop, before we do something we regret.”  
  
Blaine stared down at him, surprised at the look on Kurt’s face, flushed against Blaine’s pillow.  “What would I regret?”  
  
Kurt blushed hotly, and turned his head so he couldn’t see Blaine’s eyes.  “Something  _I’d_  regret, then.”  
  
“You’d regret me?” Blaine whispered, and he sounded so hurt that Kurt’s heart broke a little bit inside his chest.  
  
“No,” Kurt admitted, looking up at Blaine again, because  _God_ , no, he’d never regret this. “But this is...wrong.  We shouldn’t be doing this.  Probably shouldn’t’ve even kissed in the first place.” Kurt sat up, slowly, leaning against his arms.  “Cause you’re leaving soon, and so am I, and we’ll probably never see each other again, and--”  
  
“Shut up.” Blaine said, harshly, before kissing Kurt again.  It was unlike any other kiss he’d shared with Blaine before---a harder kiss, and an  _angry_ kiss, and Kurt felt for a moment like he had really hurt Blaine, and so he kissed him back just as hard, until his lips felt bruised and he needed to breathe again.  
  
“I should have known.” Blaine whispered, his forehead resting against Kurt’s.  “All the beautiful ones are always cowards.”  
  
Something hot and livid ran through Kurt at that word, a sharp reminder of why he came to the party in the first place.  He pushed Blaine off of him.  “I’m not a coward.”  
  
“ _Liar_.”

“You don’t  _know_  me.” Kurt spat, kicking Blaine’s legs off of his own.  “You don’t know anything about me, so shut up.”  
  
“I know how this’ll end.” Blaine said, in a tone of voice that was both angry and bitter, and maybe even a little heartbroken.  “You’ll put your shirt back on.  You’ll leave me.  And in the morning, you’ll say you only ever kissed me because you were drunk--”  
  
“I’m not drunk.”  
  
“--You’ll say you were, though, to make yourself feel better.”  Blaine narrowed his eyes.  “Then you’ll get a job, doing something you hate, and you’re gonna marry some terrible woman, and you’ll have a bunch of terrible children, and when you’re a bitter old man you’ll think to yourself, ‘Gosh, I wish I had let that fellow blow me back in the day’ so there would have been at least one time in your life in which you were honest to yourself, and happy.”  
  
Kurt’s laugh was so stark and bitter it turned into a sob before it even left his mouth.

 

“I  _wish_ that was my future!” He yelled, throwing his arms back into his shirt.  “I wish I could look forward to a terrible job, and a terrible wife, and a terrible bunch of kids!  But I  _can’t_.  You know why?”  He wiped his eyes with his unbuttoned shirt.  “Because in six months, I’m probably going to be _dead_ in some Southeast Asian country I don’t even know the name of, fighting for some stupid cause I don’t understand and don’t believe in.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes softened immediately.  “You got drafted.”*  
  
“Go fuck yourself.  Yes.” He sat back down on the bed, hiding his face in his hands.  “I leave for basic training in a month.”  
  
“ _Jesus_.” Blaine whispered, laying a hand on Kurt’s shoulder.  Kurt brushed him off, burying himself in his folded knees instead.  
  
“I thought getting rejected from NYADA was the worst of it, you know?” Kurt whispered, more to himself than to Blaine, really.  “All I’ve ever wanted out of my life was New York. I thought having New York reject me, being stuck in Ohio for the rest of my life--I thought that was the worst of it.  But  _God_ ,” he cried, wiping his eyes again.  “I’d stay in Ohio forever if it meant I didn’t have to die overseas.”  
  
Blaine wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly and letting him cry again him.  

 

* * *

 

  
“My brother got drafted, three years ago.” Blaine told him quietly, whispering confessions into Kurt’s soft hair.  It’s the first thing either of them has said in fifteen minutes, preferring instead to lie together in silence.  “I don’t know if he’s alive or dead.  My parents think that this whole hippie thing, not supporting the war and protesting and wanting peace, they think that’s me not supporting my brother.  But that’s not true--I want the war to be over so my brother can come  _home_.”    
  
“I just don’t want to  _die_.” Kurt told him, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s middle.  Blaine squeezed him back.  “That’s selfish, I know, but it’s true.  I don’t want to die.  I have—I have so much more I want to do.”  
  
“You might not die.  I mean, going off to war--that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll  _die._  
  
“Have you  _looked_  at me? I’m going to get slaughtered!”  
  
“You’re bigger than I am!” Blaine added optimistically.  
  
 _“That’s not saying much!_  I bruise like a peach and sound like a girl.  They’re going to take one look at me and blow my head off, and that’s if my own side doesn’t do it first!”  
  
“You should just tell them you’re a homosexual, and then they’ll tell you that you’re unfit for military service and you’ll never get drafted.  That’s what I did.”  Blaine smiled sadly.  “Of course, they’ll also tell you that you’re unfit for life in general and that you should go kill yourself before you spread any of your diseased immorality to anyone else, but on the plus side, they won’t force you to join the military.”*  
  
Kurt lifted his head off of Blaine’s chest and stared at him incredibly.  “Did you seriously do that?”  
  
“I did.  See reason 738 for ‘Why My Parents Hate Me’.” Blaine laughed harshly, and the sound vibrated in his chest.  “I’m queer, and while I’m not going to go tell the whole world about it, mostly because I don’t want to end up in jail, or shot, I’m also not going to pretend I’m someone I’m  _not_.  I spent my whole life doing that, and all it ever did was make me unhappy.”  
  
“I couldn’t do that.” Kurt confessed softly, tracing the letters of his name into Blaine’s chest.  “Much as I don’t want to go off into the war, I don’t know if I could stand my family knowing the truth about me.  I don’t know how they’d react, and my father--he means the world to me.  I wouldn’t be able to stand it if he hated me.”  
  
“Enough to die for it, though?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Kurt giggled suddenly, the sobriety of the situation finally evaporating.  “Looks like it, doesn’t it?”

Blaine kissed his forehead.  “You’re the bravest man I know.  I’m--I’m sorry for calling you a coward, earlier.”  
  
“S’ okay.  You didn’t know.”  
  
“I have to wonder, though,” Blaine asked, quietly, running a hand through Kurt’s hair. “If you know you’re about to go to war and might never come home again, why did you not want to have sex? Not that I’m going to force you to if you don’t want to, but,” he squeezed Kurt tighter.  “Isn’t now the time to be adventurous?  Before--before it’s too late?”  
  
Kurt blushed, feeling silly and sort of stupid next to Blaine.  “Um, this is going to sound dumb, but I--I don’t want it to be meaningless? I don’t want it to be some random hookup.  I’d--I’d rather die a virgin, then have it not matter.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes softened.  “You think it wouldn’t matter with me?”  
  
“I don’t know! Maybe!” Kurt argued weakly, rolling off of Blaine to the other side of the bed.  “You’ve probably been with tons of guys, and you’ll probably hook up with a bunch more guys after me, and before this afternoon I’d never even kissed a guy so how am I supposed to compare to them, huh?”  He rambled, with a red face full of embarrassment.  “And I don’t know the first thing about sex, so I’d probably be terrible at it anyway, and then you’ll really not care about it ‘cause other guys would be much better at it than me, and—“  
  
Kurt was expecting a lot of different reactions from Blaine, but he didn’t quite expect him to laugh so hard.  
  
“You think I’m  _easy_?” Blaine snickered, unable to control himself.  “And that’s why you don’t wanna do stuff with me?”  
  
“I didn’t say you were easy!”  
  
“You implied it!” Blaine giggled hysterically.  “Kurt, I’m a  _virgin._ ”    
  
Kurt hit him with a pillow.  “Liar!”

“I’m not!” Blaine laughed, dodging Kurt’s weak pillow-throw.  “How many queers do you think there are in Lima?  How many of them, you think, would have sex with an eighteen year old boy--”  
  
“Eighteen!” Kurt hit him with the pillow again.  “You liar!”

“ _How old do you think I am?”_  
  
“I don’t know!” Kurt laughed, because at the moment it seemed so impossibly funny.  “I thought you were, like, this mysterious older hippie guy who was going to  _seduce_  me--”  
  
“I can seduce you!” Blaine offered excitedly.  “Wait,  _can_ I seduce you? Is that something we can do?  Oooh, can there be mutual seduction?”  
  
“--and now I find out you’re the same age as me, and just as inexperienced!”  
  
Blaine smiled at him, his eyes twinkling with mischief.  “Well, I might have more kissing experience than you.  Does that count?”  
  
Kurt smacked him with the pillow.

 

* * *

  
  
**Action: Reprise**

  
Which was how Kurt found himself naked in Blaine’s bed as Blaine sucked bruises into his inner thighs.  
  
He held his breath as Blaine gently teased his cock, pressing a light kiss to the very tip of it.  
  
“Relax,” Blaine whispered soothingly, patting Kurt’s stomach.  “I don’t know what I’m doing, either.”  
  
He licked a long line across the length of Kurt’s cock, sucking lightly when he reached the tip.  Kurt moaned.  “You--you seem like you know what you’re doing!”  
  
“I have excellent instincts.” Blaine told him smugly, before sinking his whole mouth around Kurt’s cock, and Kurt had to stop himself from coming immediately.  
  
So instead, he wrapped a hand in Blaine’s hair, accidentally crushing one of the flowers braided into the mess of curls.  “Don’t stop,” he gasped, savoring the feel of Blaine’s mouth around him.  “For the love of all that is good in this world, don’t stop doing that.”  
  
Blaine sucked at the tip again, moaning a little as he let off.  “So I’m doing this right, then?”  
  
“ _What did I just say?”_  Kurt groaned, pushing Blaine’s head back to his dick.  “Keep--keep doing what you were doing, before.”  
  
But Blaine didn’t listen, and instead started pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the side of Kurt’s cock, holding the other side steady with his hand.  “I’d just hate to do this wrong, that’s all.” Blaine whispered before switching sides, licking his way along the other half now.  “You deserve an epic first blowjob, and I--” he swirled his tongue along Kurt’s slit, lapping up the beads of precome there.  “Would hate to deliver anything less.”  
  
Kurt pulled at Blaine’s hair, dragging him up back to his mouth and kissing him sinfully.  He could taste himself in Blaine’s mouth, and was surprised by how much that turned him on.  
  
He groaned as Blaine pulled away.  “That good, huh?” His lover whispered, kissing his way back down Kurt’s body.  
  
Kurt shivered.  “Excellent. A+.  Would recommend to a friend.  Now  _please stop talking._ ”  
  
“Sir yes sir!”  Blaine saluted him, and Kurt would have bitched at him had he not three seconds later sucked Kurt’s entire length down his throat, causing Kurt to come immediately.

 

Which would have been hot, if Blaine hadn’t started choking.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked, a little panicked, running his hand down Blaine’s back soothingly.  “Please don’t die.  That would really ruin the mood.”

Blaine choked and laughed at the same time.

“Do you need water or something?”

“Water would be nice,” Blaine rasped, his voice scratchy and rough.  “Bathroom’s two doors down, on the left.”

Kurt nodded.  “Got it! Don’t die!”

_“Stop making me laugh!”_ Blaine strained, as Kurt slid on the closest pair of pants he could find.

He kissed him gently.  “I’ll be right back!”

He rushed down the hall, insanely happy that the upper half of the house was mostly deserted, grabbed a glass of water, and ran back as quickly as he could.

Blaine downed it gratefully. 

“Oh my  _God_ ,” He laughed, his voice finally back to normal.  “That would have been so hot if I hadn’t almost died.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt apologized genuinely, running his hand down Blaine’s back soothingly.  “I didn’t realize you were going to do, um,  _that_ , and I didn’t know—I should have warned you or something.  I’m sorry.”

To his surprise, Blaine merely winked at him.  “It was the salute that did it, wasn’t it?”

Kurt reached around the bed, and threw the pillow at his head. 

“Ow!”

“I could kill you!”

“Oh God, not yet! Let me come first!” Blaine breathed, leaning his head back into Kurt’s lap.  “I think my dick is confused, because nearly dying isn’t a turn on, but giving a blowjob  _definitely_  was, and now it’s not sure if it’s supposed to be aroused or not.”

Kurt ran his fingers through Blaine’s hair.  “Need a hand?”

“Are you  _offering_  one?” His eyes sparkled up at him playfully. 

He leaned forward, capturing Blaine’s lips in an upside-down kiss, his fingers lightly trailing down the dusting of hair across his stomach before wrapping his hand around Blaine’s cock.  He gasped into the kiss, allowing Kurt to slip his tongue into his mouth.

 

“I think,” Kurt breathed, pulling away from Blaine slowly. “That you are a terrible tease,” he squeezed lightly at the base of Blaine’s cock; he wasn’t a hundred percent sure of what he was doing, but this--this felt right.  “And ought to be punished,” He kissed him again as his fingers squeezed around him, tighter.  “For being so terrible.”

“Y-you gonna spank me or somethin’, for being s-so,” Blaine gasped as Kurt’s fingers traced light little circles across his tip.  “b-bad?”

“I might,” Kurt teased, because now that the idea was in his head it was hard to resist.  He squeezed Blaine’s cock again, enjoying the sounds he made.  “I might tie you to the bed.  Make it so you can’t be so mean to me.”

“M-mean?  Me?” Blaine batted his eyelashes coquettishly.  “ _Never_.  I’m nice.”

He wrapped his hand over Kurt’s, urging him to move faster.  Kurt pried his fingers off one by one.  “Nuh-uh.  Let me do this.”

He licked his hand gracefully before running the wetted digits across Blaine’s length, squeezing gently.  Precome began to leak out of the tip as Blaine whined sinfully.  “ _You’re_  mean.”

“I could be a lot meaner.” Kurt smirked, pumping his lover through his orgasm. 

 

* * *

 

 

“So what are we, exactly?” Kurt asked him later, when they were still in bed together, snuggled close together, with his arm wrapped around Blaine’s middle.

“I have no idea,” Blaine admitted with a cheeky grin.  “But I bet its fun figuring it out.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Interlude: Summer**

 

It  _was_  fun, getting to know Blaine.   _Blaine_  was fun, in a way Kurt hadn’t anticipated.  Sure, after the first night he had imagined days in which he just laid about in Blaine’s bed, exploring his lover’s body and finding all the different ways he liked to be touched, and while there were days in which that happened, that hadn’t been the best part of the summer.  
  
The best part had been getting to know  _Blaine_ , the person.  The boy who was convinced bow ties were making a comeback in the fashion world, the one who loved Broadway and show tunes unashamedly but also had a deep love for rock and roll.  The boy who kissed Kurt unashamedly, like he was the air he needed to breathe.  The boy who loved Elvis and watched  _I Dream of Jeannie_  religiously. Whose family owned a color teevee but, as Blaine confessed in hushed whispers to Kurt, there was something about black and white television that Blaine  _adored,_ something classic and artistic, something color teevee had yet to duplicate.  
  
In a different life, Kurt would have fallen in love with him on sight.  
  
As it was, they tried their best not to get too attached. They only had the summer together, and while they had convinced each other to enjoy what time they had together, the threat of  _war_  and  _New York_  loomed over their heads like a dark cloud on a summer’s day.  
  
He never wanted this summer to end.  
  
Getting to know Blaine, however, also meant getting to know his friends.  There was Rachel Berry, of course, who, when not playing tonsil hockey with Finn, spent her time interrogating Kurt, which lasted up until the point when she learned he loved musicals, too, and then she offered to adopt him as well.  
  
The Berry residence, it seemed, was the place where the party never  _actually_  stopped.  People were always in and out of the place, but the Berrys never seemed to mind, so Kurt tried not to either.  There were about ten or so people, however, who seemed to consider the Berry household their second home, and they were the  _strangest_  mix of people Kurt had ever met.  All of them were nice, of course, and by summer’s end Kurt considered each one of them a friend of his, but that still hadn’t meant they weren’t a strange mixture.  They were, as Kurt finally figured, a mix of people who would never really amount to anything in life, people who were about to die, and people who, as far as Kurt could tell, had only success to look forward to, but wanted to live a little before they got there.  
  
It was fun, though.  It was fun dancing with Mike Chang, who was leaving at the end of the summer to become a doctor.  He liked talking to Quinn Fabray, who had had a baby two years ago but was leaving her behind with her mother to go study English at Vassar College*, Yale’s sister school, and hoped to someday actually graduate  _from_ Yale, with a degree in law.  
  
Hell, he even liked getting high with Noah Puckerman, who used to throw him in the dumpster every morning on his way to school but who was also getting deployed at the end of the summer.  He’d apologized for their shared past, and offered Kurt the joint out of brotherhood.  
  
“I mean,” Puckerman laughed as Kurt tried to cough up his lung after inhaling too much smoke.  “What more have we got to lose, you know?”  
  
It made sense, at the time.  
  
Of course, it was never just Blaine’s friends at these parties.  Kurt invited a few of his own along too. Mercedes and Rachel butted heads at first, but before long they were singing together like they were best friends. Kurt hadn’t been sure how Artie was going to fit in, but it turned out he needn’t have worried: Artie was friends with  _everyone_  before too long, and could even be found making out with Brittany occasionally.  
  
Pot was fun but booze was better as far as Kurt was concerned, but he always had to be on guard to make sure the opposite was true for Blaine.  A high Blaine got the munchies and started waxing poetically about  _War and Peace_ , which Kurt could deal with and found amusing no matter his own state of sobriety.  A drunk Blaine, however, Kurt soon learned, was a  _slutty_  Blaine, and while Kurt appreciated the poem he wrote about his ass, he wasn’t sure the entire neighborhood needed to hear it, too.  
  
He wasn’t sure what would even happen to them if the rest of the neighborhood heard it, either, but no one said anything so Kurt guessed they must be safe.  And while the poem hadn’t even rhymed or even made much sense, really, Kurt still wrote down the words in his journal, because  _Blaine_ said them, about  _Kurt_ , and that  _meant_ something.  
  
Was it possible, even, to fall in love with someone after only a month? Someone whose last name he didn’t know?  
  
But the summer passed too quickly, like Kurt knew it would, and before long it was the night before Kurt was scheduled to leave, and  _Blaine_  was the one crying into his pillow.  
  
“I don’t want you to  _go_ ,” Blaine cried, and Kurt felt his heart break.  “I know you have to, that you don’t even want to go, but I still don’t want you to leave.  I’ll miss you. I—“ he wiped his eyes.  “I don’t want to say goodbye, tomorrow.”  
  
Kurt swallowed.  “Then don’t.  You don’t say goodbye to me, and I won’t say goodbye to you, and when” ( _if_ ) “I come home, we can just—pick up where we left off, if you want.”  
  
“I’d like that.” Blaine squeezed his hand.  “Can I write to you, when you’re overseas?”  
  
“I’d love that.” Kurt kissed his forehead, rubbing his nose against Blaine’s.  “It’ll—it’ll give me something to look forward to.”

* * *

 

  
The hug they share at the train station the next day felt oddly formal, stiffened with a promise they weren’t sure of how to keep.  And while Kurt wanted nothing more than to kiss Blaine there, in public, in front of his father and God and the world, it had been nice, to wrap his arms around Blaine like that.  
  
“I promise,” He whispered, with his arms tight around Blaine’s waist.  “I’m never saying goodbye to you.”  
  
Blaine nodded solemnly.  “Come home.”   
  
God, he wanted to.

* * *

 

  
It was only after he got settled on the train that he realized Blaine had slipped a small scrap of paper into the back pocket of his bell bottoms.  
  
 _Courage_ , it said, in a fancy loopy script Kurt recognized as Blaine’s, and underneath it was a New York phone number.  
  
He kissed the slip of paper and placed it in his shirt pocket, right above his heart, and missed home.  
  


* * *

 


End file.
